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Wednesday September 27th 2006, 2:30 pm
Filed under: All Letters,Love Letters

To my sadness,

The days seem to be getting shorter and shorter which is contradictory to the summer season here in the city. Soon I will start packing my room, getting it ready for the move back to Los Angeles. Moving has always been stressful for me because it forces me to intricately decipher the meaning behind my material possessions. While placing each article in a box, I interconnect with the object and come to terms with the emotional memory Iíve placed on a material possession. Each item contains a vivid memory and emotion imbued in its essence, or at least in the essence I perceive it to have. Beyond the direct connection with my memory of the object and the object itself, I am creating new connections and associations with the object, as I see it in the present. I project a future understanding of how I may or may not utilize the object in my future life, using my past memory and connection as a reference point of my prediction. This process is very strategic and calculated, which needless to say, is very time consuming. The energy spent on packing memories into boxes would most likely be better spent physically moving boxes from point A to point B; in this case, from San Francisco to Los Angeles. To me, cities are mere expansions on the metaphor for object and subject concerning emotional and physical memory attachment. The buildings are the boxes which humans pack themselves into. You are most likely at work right now, stuck inside your pet animal hospital. I can never go to your specific work ever again, and I am glad your work will not come to me in Los Angeles. The people, buildings and entire cities we leave behind are just as inter-subjective as the TV I left at your apartment, or the bed Iím leaving at my current residence. I am choosing to leave San Francisco just like I choose to leave photos of you outside of the boxes Iím currently packing. But objects are never completely inside nor outside of the containers we describe for them. In this way, I am never outside San Francisco, even though I have momentarily left the city. Although my official address has changed, I can still wander back to the city and know certain things about the city: geographical locations, places to buy certain drugs, cultural signifiers that hardly change through time. Our old neighborhood will always stimulate memories and emotions to me. I paint the portrait of the city through the context of my own interpretations. The composition is laid out by memory and thought. Today, I picked up mail from your (our old) apartment. Just walking in our old neighborhood brought tears to my eyes. They werenít necessarily sad tears of sorrow, but rather a nostalgic flow of memories and emotions nestled inside streams of beaded tear drops. Nostalgia is a function of vagueness that memories create. Ambiguous connections to smells, sounds, visual stimulus, etc. reach out to our inner emotional ties and networks of memories. The connection between stimulus and the internal gaze is activated through the network of cognitive organization. We try to contain our thoughts by a process of categorization, similar to placing objects from our lives in boxes. But what we come to find is that we cannot contain such vast networks of neural assimilation. With material possessions we are given the option to throw out the old stimulus and replace it with new items in our lives. Memories, even though they supplant one another in their hieratical categories, are not as easy to dissolve into the void of forgotten memories. In fact, the adverse reaction occurs when we try to focus on destroying memories. We re-contextualize these memories and help bind them into our cortexís neurons through such focusing techniques.

-Me.

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